


Director's Cut: Bonus Scenes From Tinseltown

by orphan_account



Series: The Walk of Fame: Hollywood AU [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Actors AU, Deleted Scenes, F/M, Hollywood AU, one shot series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-11 02:09:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7871620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of one-shots based on All The Bright and Precious Things, my FitzSimmons Hollywood AU. </p><p>Each one-shot is standalone. Check the notes for where it fits into the larger narrative. Some will be silly, some will be romantic, some will be angsty, some will be Hollywood AU crack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The MTV Movie Awards

**Author's Note:**

> By semi-popular demand, I couldn't resist revisiting Tinseltown with our favorite scientists--I mean, Oscar award winning actors. 
> 
> I'm always taking requests for these, and will be compiling a list. I have no regular update schedule for this, but I'll be writing from requests and whatever tickles my fancy when the inspiration strikes. 
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment with a request or stop by my inbox at superirishbreakfasttea.tumblr.com/ask 
> 
> This first chapter takes place a couple of months after the last chapter in All The Bright And Precious Things.

Fitz shifts uncomfortably in his jeans as the nominees for the Best Kiss Award play on the screens above them. It’s been years but he’s still not used to seeing himself on-screen, and it’s especially odd to watch himself make out with his girlfriend on a jumbotron. They’ve been together—officially—for six months, two weeks, and five days. He doesn’t even pretend like he isn’t counting.

 

The scene playing on a massive scale is the big reunion scene from Maveth, when she finds him on the blue planet and runs for him. On the screen, Jemma reaches him. She practically leaps and he catches her, one of her legs hoisted up over his hip as she captures his lips in an incredibly passionate kiss.

 

The other nominees are all people they know, of course, as it always seems to go. Going up against everyone’s favorite sweethearts Peggy Carter and Steve Rogers is always tough—they’ve been married for about ten years now, and work together almost as often as Fitz and Jemma do. Trip is nominated in this category, too, for his romantic comedy that they went to the premiere for just a few months ago.

 

It’s especially strange for Fitz to watch the kiss they’re nominated for given that they weren’t actually together during this particular film. The chemistry between them is pretty palpable, although maybe he’s just a little bit biased. It’s easy now to look back on shooting that film and know that there was something brewing between them, even though he hadn’t noticed at the time. Hunter leans forward from his seat behind Fitz and claps him on the back.

 

“Good work, kid,” Hunter winks cheekily.

 

Fitz rolls his eyes and bats him away as all of the teenagers who spent so much time voting for the MTV Movie Awards begin screeching with the conclusion of the award nominees. Up on the podium, Skye seems to be having far too much fun with this, alongside her co-star Joey.

 

A lot of people say this stuff is beneath the great FitzSimmons, but not to Fitz. It’s the only kind of award show that feels fun and important. They get to walk on an orange carpet and be interviewed by kids. There’s nothing more fun than that. Plus, when he and Jemma started this journey into fame and recognitions, they were just a couple of kids themselves.

 

“Too bad Fitz wasn’t more convincing with me,” Skye jokes into the mic. “Or maybe we’d have been nominated for one of these things!”

 

Fitz slaps a face over his hand and sinks further into his seat as Jemma laughs on the couch beside him. She reaches over and squeezes his knee affectionately.

 

“I hate her,” he grumbles.

 

“You do not,” she sighs fondly. “Do you remember the plan?”

 

He huffs. “Jemma, it’s not a complicated plan.”

 

“That wasn’t my question!” she protests, still whispering as Skye finishes her bit and prepares to announce the winner. “Do you remember the plan?”

 

“Yes, I remember the plan,” he confirms. “For the record, I still think it’s stupid.”

 

“That’s because you’re no fun,” she teases, sticking her tongue out at him briefly. She manages to look like a dignified adult just in time for the camera to pan to them in anticipation of the result.

 

“And the winner is—“ Joey begins.

 

“Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons!” Skye announces triumphantly. She beams excitedly as her friends stand to applause. Fitz puts a hand on Jemma’s lower back to help her navigate the narrow aisle in her heels. She looks back at him with an anticipatory little smile.

 

He still thinks the plan is stupid, but if it makes her happy—well, then he’ll do it, just like he’ll do just about anything that will make her happy. When they get closer to the stage, Jemma peels off to go up the stairs on the left side and Fitz turns to go on the right. He watches her dramatically peel off her red and white jacket, tossing it at Skye.

 

Their friend drops her jaw excitedly, brown eyes going wide. For some reason the entire thing starts to get his adrenaline pumping, so he jumps up and down and leans into the comedic vibe coming off of Jemma as she rolls her shoulders back. Fitz moves his neck from side to side in a stretch and she meets his eyes all the way across the stage.

 

He kind of forgets that this is a whole big plan of hers, that they’re in front of a bunch of their peers as well as large numbers of total strangers. He raises up his hands to beckon her forward and the screaming escalates, nearly drowning out the loud pop music playing throughout the stadium.

 

Then Jemma starts striding, very quickly, toward him. She looks happy and relaxed, and more than a little bit eager to reach him. He starts walking, too, because he’d very much like to have her to hold onto.

 

When she does reach him, she hops—just like she had made him practice in their living room. He grabs onto her in a perfect imitation of the kiss from Maveth—her leg up on the side of him, her hands on the sides of his face, fingers trailing down his neck from behind his ears.

 

It’s amazing to him that after six months, two weeks, and five days, she still has this kind of affect on him, that all of the screaming and the lights fades away until he can’t hear any of it. The kiss is passionate—just as much if not more so than the one from the film—and he feels the unfortunate but necessary need to cut it short before things escalate to decidedly beyond the G-rating required for this type of event. He puts her back down and she laughs breathlessly.

 

“Fun, right?” she asks him quietly as they make their way to the podium. Skye is clapping and laughing, Joey mockingly covering his eyes at their spectacle.

 

“Yeah, okay,” he grudgingly admits. “It was fun.”

 

She shoots him a wink and holds out her hands toward Skye. Skye tosses the jacket back, which Jemma slips on as she steps up to the podium.

 

“Well—“ Jemma begins.

 

“I honestly just wanted to show off that I can still do that,” Fitz grins. Jemma shoots him a teasing look as the crowd erupts into giggles. “No, I’m serious! The first few times we did that on set, it was a disaster.”

 

The laughter continues and Jemma chimes in. “It really was. The amount of times that we ended up on the ground, completely covered in dirt—“

 

“—the whole thing was a mess,” Fitz agrees.

 

Jemma furrows her brow and grabs his chin, turning it toward her. She bites down on a smile and wipes at his bottom lip, her finger coming away with a smudge of red on it. “Sorry about that. I put some lipstick on you.”

 

It begins again, with loud screams and excited cat calls. Jemma grabs his hand behind the podium and he squeezes.

 

“Thank you so much for always supporting us!” Jemma says genuinely as Joey jogs over with their little metal popcorn trophies.  “I truly can’t even tell you how much it means to us.”

 

“For the record, real food next time would be very much appreciated,” Fitz jokes, nodding at the award.

 

Jemma grimaces at his bad joke but plays along. “We’ve collected quite a few of these now, and he tries to eat it every time." 

 

“Maybe that’ll be our next film,” Fitz muses aloud. Skye waves her hand as if to say _wrap it up, guys,_ and Jemma takes the hint.

 

“Maveth almost didn’t get made because no one really though that romance and outer space and parallel universes could all combine to make a decent movie, but I think we did it, and we were able to do it because of support from fans like all of you.”

 

“And uh—stay in school?” Fitz closes. Jemma throws her head back in a laugh and the music starts up again, as does the cheering. Skye and Joey join them as they make their way off stage, Fitz taking her trophy from her. They're surprisingly heavy. 

 

“You could have warned us,” Skye chuckles. “I probably wouldn’t have screamed so loud.”

 

“You still would have,” Joey disagrees with a shake of his head. “Good to see you, Fitz.”

 

“You too,” Fitz says amicably. “I’d shake your hand, but—“

 

“Got it,” Joey smiles warmly. “We’ll have to get the old cast back together soon.”

 

Jemma doesn’t flinch at the mention of Fitz’s time on Mary Sue. She continues chatting with Skye as they wait in the wings for the next transition so that they can get back to their seats. When it’s time, Fitz hands off the awards to one of the producers assistants and makes his way back to his seat clutching Jemma’s hand.

 

They sit down to whispered teasing and jokes from their friends, and Jemma immediately leans into his side. He puts an arm up on the back of the couch to better accommodate her, playing with her hand where it sits on his leg.

 

“I think Maveth really started it,” Jemma says in his ear. He turns to look at her, brow furrowed in confusion.

 

“Started what?”

 

“This. Us.”

 

“Really?”

 

“That kiss—joking around with you, falling in the dirt—it felt good. I thought about it a lot every day after shooting,” she explains, uncharacteristically shy. He’s glad it’s so loud, given that this conversation feels very intimate.

 

“At the time, you did not think it was fun,” he reminds her cheekily. She rolls her eyes with a little shake of her head.

 

“I loved shooting that scene. And I knew at the premiere, when I saw that kiss and the way it came off on screen—it was clear that I loved you, even then. Even though I didn’t know it.”

 

He can’t hold back his smile, and he would love to kiss her if it wouldn’t result in banging his teeth against hers. She grins back and leans her forehead down on his shoulder.

 

“I hate P.D.A.,” she grumbles.

 

He scoffs and her face shoots up. “That’s a lie, Simmons.”

 

She narrows her eyes. “I do!”

 

He begins ticking off instances on his fingers. “The red carpet kiss, it was your idea to pull that stunt anyway, then there’s this conversation, not to mention the time—“

 

She’s smiling wildly, shoulders shaking with quiet laughter, and she silences him with a kiss.

 

He doesn’t really care if the camera is on them, or if their friends or watching, or if everyone on earth knows that he’s absolute putty in Jemma Simmons’s hands. He melts into her kiss but when she pulls away, he can’t help himself.

 

“Bloody hypocrite.”

 

It earns him a light smack on the chest, but she doesn’t move away. He has no complaints.


	2. The Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated T for mild sexual content. 
> 
> FitzSimmons film their first sex scene together. Takes place when they're around 20 years old, five years before the start of All the Bright and Precious Things

Fitz huffs out a nervous breath, pacing his dressing room in only a robe.

 

He can’t believe he agreed to this. He cannot believe that he let Jemma sweet-talk him into doing a movie with a _sex scene_.

 

Not just the _Fade To Black_ kind either. This is the real freaking deal. She’s not going to be wearing _anything_ on the top of her body, other than some weird stickers.

 

He glares down at the spandex—thing—he’s supposed to put on. It’s some kind of strange holster, to hold his more enthusiastic body parts in place so he doesn’t sexually harass Jemma in their workplace.

 

“I have the worst fucking job,” he grumbles as he finally picks up the flesh-covered death harness.

 

The irony of what he’s just said dawns on him and he moans, running a hand over his face in mortification even though no one is here to witness his torture. Unlike that fateful first audition with Jemma, where his mum had been able to give him a pep-talk through the kissing scene, he’s sure that he would rather die than deal with this with her.

 

With a heavy heart, he shrugs off his robe and picks up the—holster. That’s the only thing he can think of to call it.

 

Jemma had turned practically purple when Phil had handed it to him. Then she had run off to deal with whatever stickers she had been given.

 

He can only assume where the stickers are going to be, and given the way that his biology reacts to the mere thought—well, it’s a good thing he has this stupid apparatus.

 

He shakes himself. It’s completely unprofessional to have those kinds of thoughts about his co-star as it is, but having— _impure_ ideas—about Jemma? That’s just plain disrespectful. She’s his best friend, the only real friend he’s ever had, and the last thing he wants to be is yet another disgusting man who objectifies her.

 

Jemma and May have fought tirelessly to keep photoshoots classy, to keep films in the female gaze, and to make sure that Jemma doesn’t become yet another starlet with photoshopped breasts and an impossibly tiny waist. It’s important to Jemma, and it’s important to him by proxy.

 

“You can do this,” he tells himself in the mirror. “It’s acting. It’s pretend. This is a great film and you’re going to do a great job.”

 

A little giggle from the door of his trailer causes him to whip around—only he hasn’t put his robe back on yet. He shouts in surprise, grabbing at the terrycloth that had been discarded to the side.

 

“JEMMA!”

 

“Sorry!” she squeaks, covering her eyes. She spreads her fingers to peek one eye out at him.

 

“JEMMA!”

 

Her fingers snap shut again. “Sorry, sorry! I just wanted to come talk to you before we get going.”

 

He wraps his robe around himself, scowling as he ties the belt as tightly as he can. It presses on his stomach uncomfortably, but he doesn’t care. With a heavy sigh, he crosses his arms.

 

“You can uncover your face now.”

 

When she does, her cheeks are as pink as he imagines his are. “I should have knocked—“

 

“It’s really fine,” he interrupts, trying to write off his embarrassment with an awkward shrug. “You’ve never had to knock before.”

 

Jemma shifts in her cotton grey robe, shuffling on her feet. “Yes, well, we’ve never done _this_ before, have we?”

 

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Nope. No we haven’t.”

 

“Should we set rules? Maybe we need rules.”

 

He smiles. There’s his Jemma. “The director makes the rules. Besides, we’ve already given him our list of what we’re comfortable with.”

 

“I know, I know,” Jemma huffs, pacing in the confined space of his trailer. “But I feel like this is going to be different for us. Like it might change something.”

 

He frowns. “How do you mean?”

 

“I don’t want us to get all…”

 

Jemma trails off, waving her hands wildly in the air between them.

 

“…weird?” he finishes.

 

She nods quickly. “Yes, weird, and awkward, because now we’ve pretended to have sex in front of a bunch of people.”

 

“Now how many friends can say they’ve done that?” he jokes, leaning back on the little table behind him. She smiles broadly.

 

“Not many.”

 

“We’re gonna be fine, Jemma,” he soothes her. It surprises him to find that calming Jemma’s anxieties have reduced his own. If he needs to be calm for her, he can be calm for himself, too. “I’m always comfortable with you.”

 

She crinkles her nose. “You didn’t seem so comfortable just now.”

 

“You surprised me,” he defends. “I didn’t expect you. Plus, I was basically naked.”

 

“Ugh, Fitz!” she exclaims. He immediately rolls his eyes at this standard phrase of hers. It’s like a reflex. “We’re going to be mostly naked out there too! And we won’t be alone, there’s going to be _so many_ people.”

 

They fall into pensive, somewhat awkward silence as they each privately ruminate on her statement. It’s true. There’s going to be a whole bunch of crew members, production assistants, and their managers.

 

Melinda is going to see him basically naked. _Great_.

 

“I have an idea,” Jemma blurts out. She says it so quickly he nearly misses it. “But if you don’t want to, we don’t have to.”

 

“Shoot,” he encourages.

 

“We should look at each other now,” she says quietly. Her voice is so quiet, he has to lean in to hear her. “That way there are no surprises.”

 

He’s stunned, staring at her in what he imagines is a combination of horror and confusion. “You want to do what exactly?”

 

“Take our robes off,” she clarifies, more firmly this time. “This way we’re not—I don’t know, awkwardly staring at each other out there in front of everyone? I trust you. I’m comfortable with you. But all of those strangers are making me _terrified_.”

 

He blinks a few times. “How is this going to help with that?”

 

“I don’t know!” she practically explodes. “But it just _will_!”

 

She may have a point. If he’s going to embarrass himself by gaping at her, he’d rather do it in private, thanks. And if Jemma thinks this will make her feel more at ease…well, he’d do anything to make her happy. He’s known that for a while now.

 

“I can’t believe I’m going to do this,” he groans. She smiles widely and his hesitation ebbs.

 

“On a count of three then?”

 

“You’d better not do what you did at Bobbi’s house,” Fitz warns. She giggles and shakes her head, her hair flying all around her face.

 

“I won’t, I promise!”

 

At a late-night hangout with some of Bobbi’s friends at her house, Jemma and Fitz had been dared to jump in the pool. She asked him to jump with her on three, and he had done his part.

 

Jemma, however, had stayed rooted firmly on the ground. When he came up spluttering in the cold water, she had squeaked that the water was too cold—he had clearly had no choice but to pull her in with him.

 

“I don’t believe you,” he teases.

 

“I’ll prove it,” she huffs. He opens his mouth to tell her it’s really fine, he’s just joking, but she’s already yanked off the belt of her robe and dropped it to the floor.

 

He glance down for half a second—okay, fine, a few seconds—and then tears his eyes away to focus on her face. He’s incredibly grateful for his stupid dick holster. She’s biting her lip, brows furrowed in worry, although he’s not sure why when she looks like _that_. She gestures at him impatiently.

 

“Well, now it’s your turn.”

 

He scoffs. “Jemma, look at you.”

 

She looks down at herself—practically naked, aside from the tiniest pair of nude underwear he’s ever seen and those sticker things on her breasts.

 

“So?”

 

“So?” he repeats incredulously. “So, you look like on of Bobbi’s bloody model friends, and I’ve got the body of a hairy twelve year old.”

 

She rolls her eyes. “Ugh, Fitz!”

 

A deal is a deal and he knows it, so with a deep breath, he takes off his robe and immediately clenches his eyes shut as tightly as he can.

 

“Hm,” Jemma ponders aloud. “You’re quite well-formed and symmetrical. Well done, Fitz.”

 

His eyes snap open, wide as saucers. “Well done, Fitz? What does that even mean?”

 

She colors slightly. Unlike Fitz’s very shy peek at her, she’s clearly surveying him very carefully. He crosses his arms a bit protectively.

 

“I just mean that you’re a good looking young man.”

 

“Oh good lord.”

 

“Robes?” Jemma suggests.

 

He nods eagerly and scrambles for his. “Robes!”

 

“Well, I don’t know about you,” Jemma says as she ties her robe back up. “But I feel much better.”

 

He snorts, shocked that he honestly does feel a bit better about the whole thing. “I guess it wasn’t the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

 

A loud bang on the trailer door startles them. Coulson’s voice sounds, muffled by the trailer walls. “Fitz! Simmons! Rolling in five. Makeup needs to double check you.”

 

“Shall we?” Fitz suggests. She grabs onto his arm and nods determinedly.

 

“Let’s go.”

 

The butterflies erupt in his stomach once again, but her warm hand on his arm keeps him steady as they make their way onto the soundstage. Jemma’s makeup artist, Kara, immediately undertakes some touch-ups, while Fitz’s makeup artist, Elena, tsks at him for wiping most of his off in his trailer as soon as she had finished with him earlier.

 

He can’t help but shrug his shoulders repeatedly, an attempt at a pump-up gesture, as he prepares to walk onto the soundstage. He sees Jemma out of the corner of his eye, fiddling with the ends of her hair in that way that she does when she’s nervous.

 

“Fitz and Simmons!” the director calls out. “Let’s roll!”

 

He takes a slow breath through his nose and releases it through his mouth. It’s show time. He won an Oscar when he was eighteen. He can certainly have pretend sex with his best friend.

 

He’s a _professional_.

 

***

 

“Agh!” he shouts, practically rolling out of the fake bed. He covers his eye with his hand and groans. “Christ, Jemma!”

 

“Oh god!” she exclaims, using the set sheets to cover her chest as she leans over him to inspect his eye. “I have no idea how my elbow got there, Fitz, I’m so sorry!”

 

“It’s like you have _more_ elbows than everyone else,” he moans. “How are you so pointy.”

 

“Your hips are going to bruise me,” she fires back haughtily. He glares at her with his uninjured eye and the director, finally done laughing at Fitz’s expense, steps in.

 

“Calm down, both of you,” he says. “Let’s give it another try.”

 

“What take is this?” Jemma asks hopefully.

 

The director sighs. “Seventeen.”

 

“We’ll get it right,” Jemma tells Fitz softly. He looks at her doubtfully and she smiles encouragingly. “If we just keep our eyes closed and let it happen, everything will be fine. We just need to find our rhythm, like always.”

 

She’s right. They just need to get into the groove of it, the same way they can pick up each other’s dropped lines. It’s different, when they’re half naked between the sheets, but he’s sure that they can do it.

 

So when the director calls action, Fitz is more determined than ever to finish this scene and wash his hands of it for good. He lunges at her immediately, shielding her body from the camera with his own.

 

Her leg runs up the side of his, just outside of the covers, and she hooks it around his waist, pressing him impossibly close to her.

 

He’s really, really glad that he’s supposed to be fake-enjoying this, otherwise the moan that slips from his mouth would be completely inappropriate. Her hands start roaming and he follows her cue, letting his fingers dance up her side. She sucks in a shuddering breath and it’s almost easy to forget the camera hovering over her face to capture her every expression.

 

It’s that little sound of hers that starts off his mantra.

 

_This is a job. This is a job. This is a job._

It’s also that little sound of hers that he can’t stop hearing when he’s driving home after finally nailing—pun intended, in his head—the big scene. She had asked if he wanted to get dinner, but he had declined in favor of sulking in his apartment with a couple of six packs.

 

He needs to forget all about this. He needs to forget about how warm she is and how soft and lovely. He needs to forget what it felt like to be on top of her.

 

He needs to forget it. It won’t happen again, and it certainly will never happen when cameras aren’t rolling.

 

He spends the night in his apartment alone rolling it over and over in his head, completely unaware that across town, Jemma paces Bobbi’s living room, ranting about how embarrassing her very real moan was.


	3. Wedding Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz and Jemma get married. Set roughly four years or so after the ending of All the Bright and Precious Things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a birthday gift for the darling popsicle86 over on tumblr. She has been an amazing friend and always so supportive. It has been such a treat to swap stories with her. Since we've met, she's become a mother as well. Wishing the happiest birthday to you, darling!

As soon as Jemma slides into her wedding dress, Skye starts crying. Jemma pretends not to notice that May hides her face almost immediately, and Bobbi just whistles excitedly.

 

“We have an ambulance on-hand, right?” Bobbi teases. “Because Fitz may just drop dead when he sees you.”

 

Jemma runs her hands over her stomach nervously, the bumps of the lace providing a certain kind of comfort. “Oh, I doubt that. He’s already seen me in a wedding dress. Three times, actually.”

 

They’ve done a surprising amount of wedding scenes together. If she’s honest, it’s been weighing on her in the entire process of planning. She hasn’t wanted the wedding to look too similar to any of their filmed ones, but there were also bits and pieces from those scenes that she had absolutely loved. Bobbi had encouraged her not to drop styles of décor solely based on her filmography, and Jemma had done her best to not let it bother her.

 

Her dress, though, was a different story. She insisted on something completely different than anything he had seen her in, and the fitted lace had been absolutely perfect. He had already seen a ball-gown and a floaty chiffon number on her, and she had fallen in love with this number immediately after putting it on.

 

“Those were all fake,” Skye reminds her. “This is real.”

 

This is real. This is real. This is real.

 

She’s marrying her best friend in the world. Her professional and personal partner.

 

And sure, it’s not quite what she always imagined for her wedding. She had really wanted privacy, but that’s simply not an option if she also wanted an outdoor wedding like she had always dreamed of. They had sent out decoy invitations and times, but Jemma is certain that a helicopter or two will eventually be floating in the airspace above their ceremony.

 

“How are you feeling?” May asks.

 

“Excited,” Jemma breathes. She stares at herself in the mirror, trying to wade through the wave of butterflies overcoming her entire body. “Nervous. Happy.”

 

“It’s nearly time,” May reminds her gently. “I have something for you.”

 

Jemma turns around to face her manager as Melinda fishes a small velvet box out of her clutch. When she pops it open, Jemma gasps with her hand over her mouth.

 

“Melinda—“

 

“The earrings you borrowed for the Chemistry premiere. I thought you might want to borrow them again today,” she offers.

 

Jemma nods a bit tearfully, recalling that evening vividly. Jemma had convinced her mother to let her handle her own wardrobe, a hard-won fight that had nearly fallen apart when she realized she had forgotten to pick out earrings. Apparently this was a faux pas of massive proportions, and May had saved her with these earrings of her own.

 

“I would love to,” Jemma whispers. She reaches for them with shaking hands. “That feels like yesterday.”

 

May pegs her with a stare. “It feels like twenty years ago to me, since the two of you have taken a decade off of my life.”

 

Bobbi snorts and grabs the powder blue garter off of the nearby table as Jemma puts the earrings on. “Don’t forget your something blue.”

 

“And the lingerie is new,” Skye jumps in. “What about something old?”

 

Jemma smiles softly and grabs the garter. She leans down to lift the hem of her dress and flips it up, revealing a penny sewn in. “I found this, heads-up, right before I walked into my first audition with Fitz. Think it’s old enough?”

 

“Of course it is,” Bobbi scoffs, brushing her off. “Although I can’t believe you sewed street change into your expensive wedding dress.”

 

Jemma slips on her garter and rights herself. Skye bounces lightly on her toes just as someone raps at the door.

 

“Ready?” Skye asks.

 

“Yes,” Jemma replies immediately. “Yes.”

 

“Let’s do this,” Bobbi grins. “Let’s get you married.”

 

“Thank you all,” Jemma tells them seriously as they make their way to the door. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you. My career, my life, this wedding—it wouldn’t be the same without all of you.”

 

May hugs her quickly and immediately averts her eyes. “I couldn’t be happier for both of you.”

 

With a deep breath, Jemma swings open the door to reveal Phil waiting for them, pacing in his tuxedo. He freezes upon setting his eyes on Jemma, eventually offering his arm.

 

“Let’s go, kiddo.”

 

She grasps onto him tightly, an anchor like he’s always been to her. Despite the slightly improved relationship with her own parents, Jemma had decided against inviting them to her wedding. She’s seen them a few times over the last few years, and small doses have been the best way to go. She still can’t trust her mother to not ruin the happiest day of her life, and she certainly can’t trust her father to prevent it.

 

And so when it came time to choose someone to walk her down the aisle, she had chosen Phil. Ever since she had moved to the States over ten years ago, he had been a paternal and guiding figure in her life, making sure she was eating enough and looking after her. He had embarrassed her, teased her, fought with her, and even sometimes disappointed her.

 

Jemma figures that’s really the definition of being someone’s parent. It had been a natural choice. She lets him lead her out of the small vineyard building she had been using as a

 

Bobbi and Skye squeeze her hands and each peck her on the cheek before linking arms with their respective boyfriends to walk down the aisle. Jemma remains out of sight with Phil.

 

“You alright?” Phil asks. “You’re holding onto my arm pretty tight there.”

 

“I’m just eager,” she assures him quietly. The music shifts and her breath catches. Phil smiles encouragingly and they begin to walk in sync toward the awaiting crowd.

 

As soon as she reaches the aisle, her eyes lock on Fitz and for a moment, she’s sure she’ll never breathe again. He raises his left hand to his mouth, looking completely overwhelmed by the mere sight of her. When she gets halfway to the alter, she notices his feet bouncing—he looks like he’s going to run into the aisle rather than wait for her, and Jemma is grateful for Hunter’s steadying hand on Fitz’s shoulder keeping him in place. Fitz finally lowers his hand and she sees him mouth one word.

 

_Wow._

 

They finally reach the archway, a gorgeous hand-made wooden backdrop, covered in weaving flowers. Phil kisses her cheek and places Jemma’s hand in Fitz’s as Bobbi steps forward to retrieve her bouquet.

 

“Can we stop for a minute?” Fitz says quietly, leaning in close.

 

Jemma’s eyes widen and her heart stops. “What? What’s—what’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing’s wrong,” he smiles, his eyes shining with tears. “I just want a minute to look at you.”

 

Jemma giggles, shaking her head at his nonsense. It’s a fairly small ceremony, especially for a couple with such extreme celebrity, and every single attendee claps and whistles when Fitz spins her around. Jemma locks eyes with Brenda in the first row. Brenda is practically weeping, a huge smile on her face. Beside her is a large, single sunflower laid out in honor of Penny.

 

“Can we get started now?” Jemma asks. “Are you done admiring me yet?”

 

“Never,” he says cheekily. “But sure, let’s get on with it.”

 

Their officient chuckles at their banter and clears his throat.

 

“We are gathered here today to join Leopold Fitz and Jemma Simmons in holy matrimony. Over the past twelve years of friendship and partnership and love, these two individuals have become nearly inextricable from one another. When I think of their story and the bond that I have gotten to know in the months leading up to this commitment, I am reminded of this quote: Love is friendship that has caught fire. It is quiet understanding, mutual confidence, sharing and forgiving. It is loyalty through good and bad times. It settles for less than perfection and makes allowances for human weaknesses.”

 

Fitz squeezes Jemma’s hands and beams at her. She grins back at him, hardly even hearing the man running their ceremony.

 

“Anyone who knows this couple—truly knows them, not simply reading about their lives in the glossy pages of a magazine—understands that their bond is one that is simply unshakeable. Marriage is perhaps the most important role that they will embark on together. There are no written lines, no perfectly directed scenes, and at times, the entire story may feel derailed. There are no dress rehearsals for marriage, only love. Only love there to guide you and protect you, to remind you of where you have been, where you are, and where you are going. Leo and Jemma have written their own vows. Leo, if you would hand me the rings and begin.”

 

Jemma looks expectantly behind Fitz at Hunter, the best man, who she assumes will produce the rings from his pocket. He holds up empty hands defensively and Jemma frowns.

 

“Fitz!” she hisses. “Where are the rings?”

 

He smirks at her, extracting himself from her to hold up a finger. He kneels down, facing the aisle, and whistles.

 

“Widge! It’s your cue!”

 

Jemma laughs delightedly, her jaw dropping as Widget trots down the aisle holding a polished wooden box in her little mouth. She darts for them enthusiastically and Fitz greets her warmly, patting her head and removing the box from her mouth.

 

“Here, mate,” Hunter offers, producing a handkerchief from his pocket. “Might wanna wipe that down.”

 

Their guests laugh as Fitz cleans off the box and hands it to the officient. He opens it and offers it to Fitz, who plucks Jemma’s ring from the velvet inside. He takes her hand and runs his thumb over her knuckles.

 

“I spent an incredibly long time trying to figure out what to say,” Fitz begins. “Everyone keeps referring to this as the biggest day of my life, but I don’t really agree. It feels like every day I’ve spent with you since I met you has been the biggest day of my life. You are…my best friend. It doesn’t feel like enough to say that. Those words can’t really explain everything you are to me. Nothing can really explain everything you are to me, but I hope that you know. And I promise to show you, every single day, for the rest of our lives, what an infinitely important and wonderful person you are. I promise to always be there for you. I promise to get up early to let out the dog. I promise to be your partner, on the screen and at home. I promise to protect you, always, and to put you above everything else. I promise to be beside you for all of it, the whole damn time.”

 

Jemma bites her lip, a couple of tears escaping onto her cheek, and she resists with everything in her because she just wants to lean forward and _kiss him_. He slides the band onto her finger and it nestles perfectly against her engagement ring. Swallowing hard, Jemma removes Fitz’s wedding band from the box and takes a moment before she begins.

 

“I have had an incredibly lucky life, but I know that it wouldn’t mean anything if I didn’t get to have it with you. Every success and triumph with you by my side has been truly incredible, but so has every failure and misstep. We have shared everything for twelve years, and I cannot wait to share everything for the rest of our lives. As you know, I’ve thrown myself into many obsessions—“

 

Fitz cuts her off with a little burst of laughter, nodding in agreement.

 

“—and lately, as I’ve tried to think of what I could say today, I keep coming back to something I read about during my foray into science. The first law of thermodynamics says that no energy is created and none is destroyed and I keep thinking that whatever energy inside of us has always found each other. We have given that energy an amazing life, maybe even the best one, and I know that we will keep doing that every single day. I love you, magnificently and endlessly.”

 

With trembling fingers, she places the ring on Fitz’s hand and gasps out a happy sob. He reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear, the back of his hand trailing against her cheek.

 

“Leo Fitz, do you take Jemma Simmons to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

 

“I do,” he chokes out, his voice thick.

 

“Jemma Simmons, do you take Leopold Fitz to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

 

Jemma nods enthusiastically, already leaning into him as she whispers. “I do. I do. I do.”

 

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the—“

 

He doesn’t even finish the sentence before Jemma is grabbing Fitz by the face and tugging him into a kiss. Bobbi and Skye cheer loudly as Hunter whistles with his fingers between his lips. The clapping and cheering and joy melts completely into the background as Fitz grabs at Jemma’s hips to pull her closer, leaning her back with his hand in her hair.

 

When they finally break away from each other, Fitz takes her hand and tugs her to run back down the aisle. Holding onto the veil in the back of her hair and grasping him as tightly as she can, she follows after. The sun on her skin and his hand in hers reminds her that all of this is real.

_This is real. This is real. This is real._


End file.
